


Flight X |Action, Humor, Drama - The German bros|

by parsoncarter



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, General fiction, Literature, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-07-12 20:34:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7121662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parsoncarter/pseuds/parsoncarter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gilbert was about to board the plane when his brother called that his flight will crash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flight X |Action, Humor, Drama - The German bros|

Genre:Action & Humor  
Characters: The German brothers

___

 

"Yeah?" Gilbert answered as he ascended the steps on the plane. The wind was cold and it’s good to hear from a warm voice, his brother.

"It's me." he noticed something in his voice that made him think.

"Luddie! You called. What's up?"

"You have to cancel your flight."

"Why? I'm already on my way to my seat."

There was a pause at the other line. "Brother?" he called again.

"How would I say this...that plane you're in is going to crash land in Cologne."

"What?!" he almost tripped in the middle of the aisle.

He walked the remaining steps towards his seat. He balanced his phone all the while putting his light baggage up the compartment.

"Listen to me.” his brother is saying. “You have to get out of there. A bomb has been implanted under a seat."

"There is a bo—?!"

Someone shushed him.

“Sorry.” He said. 

"Sir, please take your seat." A flight attendant said.

"Oh, right.” 

He took his seat.

“Wait." he whispered. "How did you know there is a bomb inside this plane? If I have to get out of here then everybody should too."

"I agree."

“I almost missed the flight," he craned his neck to see the seats around. "The plane's already filled in. I think there are plenty of people here.”

He heard his brother growled under his breathe. 

“I'm heading down now to the workstations."

"Alright then, you'll help me find it."

"How am I supposed to help you? I heard the attendant told you to seat down. That means the planes going to take off. You'll shut your phone down. One last warning brother, get out of the plane."

"I already am on my seat. In a few minutes the planes going to fly. I can't get out now. Worst is that I don't have the luxury of speaking to you then."

"Then go to the bathroom."

"Yeah, I'll propbably do that. But if some asshole stands up and declares there's a bomb. I'll blame you."

"Blame me? Hold on.. Here, I got your location. Your seat is in economy class. Economy class huh?" sarcasm filled his voice.

"Well, yeah. Just tell me where the bomb is."

"I can’t do that right now. The flow of information is too slow. Just sit tight."

"Sit tight? You just told me there's a bomb. I can't sit tight!" Gilbert said. He tried to contain his voice in violent whispers.

"Scheiße."

"What now?"

“On the seat—”

"Sir, please turn off your phone. The plane is going to take off in a few minutes."

Her warning left just a few words for Gilbert  catch. It goes like this: “You——out—no authorization—on the seats——bomb is going to explode in matter of 2—“

"Dammit."

***

He sat in his seat his muscles rigid in tension. How is he supposed to get help if he can't call his brother?

"Hi."

Well, this is new. People inside a plane don't usually greet each other. Instead of greeting back he turned to his window where outside he is only darkness.

"Um, excuse me are you alright?"

_Of course, I'm alright. In couple of hours this plane is going to explode and we're all dead. No, maybe not hours, seconds! And we're all toasted human barbecue!_

"Yes?"

He might have sounded irritated for the man hesitated. "I-I just noticed, sir you look pale."

He frowned. Pale? "I feel fine. Thank you." He returned to his window with a new interest.

"Are you sure because you look—"

"Please, I'm fine." _Perfectly fine._

"Alright."

He can't push down the thought about dying. He looked at his watch, a gesture of nervousness. No, no one’s going to die tonight.

As if on cue, a man a couple of seats away in the front stood up from his seat. Gilbert's stopped a beat. Mein gott. What he'd told his brother is coming true. The man looked around, sweeping the seats as if taking the attention of everyone. He took a deep breathe and...

Gilbert shot up from his seat and bump his head. "Agh! My head!"

The man across him frowned. He took the aisle and walked to the nearest restroom. Well, that quite went well.

Gilbert sighed, as he sat down. He glanced at his seatmate. He too was frowning.

"Are you alright?”

_Do I look like it?_ "Yeah, yeah. I just bumped my head."

"I heard you talking to someone. Is it true about you dying?"

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"Um, sorry. I've overheard you talking over your phone. Is that your...?"

He knitted his brows and when he finally understands his question. "Oh no. No, no. He's my younger brother. He's just worried."

"So you have a fatal disease, then?"

"No."

"Oh that's good. I thought I heard you mentioned a bomb."

"A bomb? Why would I—ah, that was just an expression. When I land to Cologne, I'm going to bomb the whole place and leave it in crumbles." He smiled but it didn't reach his ears.

His companion had a worried look. "Are you sure you didn't bump your head too hard?"

"Yeah, I'm alright." He settled himself in his seat.

The serving tray appeared and food is served but he didn't feel like eating. Here he was sitting thousands of meters from the ground, and in a couple of moments his life would end. He tapped his finger at the armrest nervously, wondering how many more hours he have to live.

"Excuse me," he said, standing up. 

When he thought he bumped the food tray, it felt weird. He didn't feel anything, it's like it's not there. He walked, dismissing the thought, ahead to the restroom.

Once inside, he fished out his phone and dialed his brother.

"Gilbert?” his brother answered. “So the plane’s not yet exploded."

"Damn it, man. This is serious." He braced one hand on the sink and looked himself in the mirror. "Gott, I do look paler."

"What?"

"I need your help. I think I'm getting a high-blood."

"Brother, you don't have high-blood."

"I might as well have it now. Or a heart attack."

"Tell me, do you want to die?”

"Of course not."

"Then find the one who planted the bomb and tell him to deactivate it. It should be easy."

“Easy?”

"Try asking about someone suspicious before you get on-board."

“So I'm going to have a new profession. I'm not a reporter of Times!"

A knock came on the door, distracting him. Suddenly, the plane jerked and his appetite came crashing down. He held onto the wall while the turbulence passed.

"Alright.” he said, standing up. “This better stop the bomb or I will haunt you for the rest of your life."

"Good luck being a journalist."

"Wait how many hours left?"

The line went dead.

“WEST!”

***

This is one of the few moments of his life when he felt dread and irritation in his gut. He walked the remaining steps to his seat and huffed out a breath.

"I need to tell you something," Gilbert said as he turned to his companion. "About what you heard earlier..."

He cradled his head in his hands. "Ah, how will I say thus? Uh, there is a bomb in this plane and in matter of minutes hell, maybe seconds from now this plane is going to explode."

There was no answer.

Gilbert knitted his brows. "Hey, are you—?"

The plane tilted at the side and it made his head turn to him. The tongue that should have been inside his mouth went slack. Gilbert eyes widened and his hand went to cover his mouth. 

His appetite turned inside out at the sight of it. His lips were purple and the sides of his mouth have white bubbles on them. Maybe it was the dread of dying or the irritation that he didn't noticed the man.

"Shit." He whispered. He stood, looking around and noticed that few people are left seated on their chairs. What the fuck happened?

A sound of crashing sounded from the other side of the curtain of the first class.

Or worst, what the fuck is happening? 

He swallowed, feeling shaky.

"I boarded this plane expecting that once I get out of this plane, I'll have some peace and now I find myself in this wretched job of finding a damn bomb." He said to himself. "Now to find the bomb."

He started looking for the bomb under the seats. No one really have the time for his questions because in this class everyone is dead.

He felt himself at the edge of nausea. After the kneeling and the standing, he's beginning to tire. He swiped hid sweat by the back of his hand and thought to himself. What the hell? This manual thing isn't going to work for me.

From his jacket, he pulled out his phone. It looked as simple as any other phone but when at times like this, an emergency, he activates the true purpose of his phone.

"It's me." He answered. He was headed to the control room with purposeful strides. "Everyone vanished just as expected. I think only few people remained and I already checked under the seats...yes, I confirmed it...the bomb? I know where it is."

His brother's last call is just an act. His answers were scripted only to have his brother believe that he's any other civilian in this plane. The truth, he's an operative working in secret missions under the Special Forces. He knew everything and he expected it. 

Before the call of his brother, his superior had called him, one last call to brief him of his mission. He shook his head. He isn't briefed of what and who these people are. They didn't need to because all of them are just holograms.He has all he needed to complete the mission. Everything has been put to need, planned. Now, it's only up to him to finish it.

Reaching a room where the needs of the passengers are prepared, he crouched low and reached for a compartment only he had access to. He held the gun in his hand and felt the cold weight settle before clicking the safety off. Gilbert dialed one last call in his phone.

***

A couple of minutes before detonation, Ludwig stared at the screen where broken lines represent the path of the plane. His brother is in there and he can't risk any more calls to him.

"Sir," someone called him. "We're picking up speed. The plane's gaining acceleration in the next few minutes."

He cursed silently.

"What of the passengers?"

"Sir, it seems your brother and a few people with fake passports boarded the plane."

"Have you tried picking up images via satellite?"

"Yes sir. We're working up on the quality. That may take a few seconds...done."

A sandy image appeared on the screen but as it loads it begins to clear. It shows a top view of the plane o his brother. At the side of the plane, a wing was a smoking ruin. It left a trail black fumes in wake.

"Can you get a better angle of the plane?"

"I can sir if the plane would tilt. The problem is if it would, it wouldn't be a promising hint of the status of the plane."

Ludwig knows as much, if the plane flew out of its flying capability, the next what will happen is going to be not good. Worst if he can't do anything. He should have said what he should have in that last call. He cringed inwardly. The last thing he could do is to trust his brother to do the job in his own awesome way, whatever that is even though it puts a dread in him. 

“Gilbert,” he whispered. “You're on your own.”

***

It's now or never. He aimed the gun and pulled the trigger. The bullet struck the lock of the last room and ricocheted.

Entering the room, he took a stance and swept a glance at the room. No one. He noticed a small machinery attached to the controller. He stepped closer and found it enclosed in a black metal box. It isn't the one controlling the plane for the plane itself was on autopilot.

Gilbert looked closer at the pilot seat where the device. On top of it was a little window, inside were wires. It finally dawn on him.

"So," he grunted. "It was hiding in plain sight."

He took the headphones and tried to reach his brother's system. A few clicks and turns and his online.

"This is your captain speaking,” he grinned. “We're now approaching crash landing."

A thousand miles away and a thousand miles from the ground, Ludwig heard his voice.

"Sir, did you get that?"

"Yes. Kid, heighten his connection. I want every detail recorded from this time."

"On it."

His brother's cheery voice called again. "Fasten your seatbelts and get ready to die."

"Gilbert, you're losing altitude."

"Hey, Luddie."

Snickers echoed around the room. Ludwig silenced them with a glare.

"Gott. Why haven't you called earlier? We've already acquired the location where your plane will crash land."

A pause from the other line.

"Gilbert?"

"Yeah?"

"I said why haven't you contacted earlier."

"Oh, sorry. You lost me there. How come I didn't know flying a plane is so awesome?"

"What are you doing?!"

"I'm flying a plane!"

"Have you found the bomb?"

"It's sitting right beside me."

"Did it get deactivated?"

"No."

Ludwig steadied himself. "Then get yourself a parachute and get the hell out of there!"

"I found something interesting while aboard this plane."

"What's that?"

"I'm the only one alive. The people are only holograms displayed to trick me."

"It's true, sir. His is the only passport that is legal, the others are fake."

"How many minutes before detonation?" Gilbert asked.

"Four minutes."

"Four minutes, huh? Well, I guess this is goodbye, brother."

"Gil—"

"I remember the times when you were so little. You have very wide blue innocent eyes staring at me and your hair is down it looked very much like mine. I don't know why you comb it out and tame it down."

"Please, it doesn't have to go there." He said. Hearing him, Ludwig felt himself reddened. The whole staff is already in attention since he'd been online.

"No, hear me out. It's been a long time since I've given you a lecture. Oh, I just remembered, you told me you somehow like hamburgers and you would eat it more than potatoes."

"Hamburgers?" Ludwig looked at the timer. His heart skipped a beat. Clutching the microphone, he yelled into the other line. "Get the hell out of there!"

"One last thing, tell Gilbird I love him!"

His last sentence left the whole room stunned.

Damn it, Ludwig thought, telling goodbye to a bird instead of him. Suddenly, he found himself on the brink of tears. To hide it, he pretended to massage his temples. Grief overwhelmed him.

A voice disturbed his mourning. "Uh, sir?"

"What?" He growled.

"Just to get things clear, who's Gilbird?"

He stopped massaging his temples. Now, they thought his brother is— _ugh_. How annoying. He blamed his brother for that.

"He's a bird."

***

One minute and twenty-three seconds and counting until the explosion, the remaining time before he get out. He checked the classes one last time if there are any living person alive. They vanished in thin air, or likely, they jumped in thin air, having parachutes.

He acquired his lifeline and went to the emergency latch. He tried to turn the latch and found it easy. He grunted, turning further for it to open. One last turn and it clicked.

Wind entered harshly, as he fought to control the latch. He shouldered his parachute, rechecking it. The final seconds ticked in his head as he cast a look at his watch.

With a gulp, he jumped to the air.

***

Static replaced his brother's voice. The room fell silent after. The dot representing the plane on the screen disappeared. It seemed obvious what had happened. No one talked for a few moments.

Only a ring of a caller broke the tension of the room.

"Sir, will I answer it?"

Ludwig nodded.

"Hello?"

"Yes?" grief echoed in his voice.

"I'm sorry about your brother."

He paused, perplexed.

"Yeah, and I thought he's going to live. Too bad the plane crashed."

"What? Who the fuck is this? If you're the one who put the bomb—!"

He chuckled. "Good to hear your voice, West. This is your brother speaking."

"Gilbert?"

"The one and only."

“So,” he breathed. “You survived the bomb.”

“No, I survived the crash. “

“And without my help. I despise you.”

“What, you hate me while I’m still alive?

“You told me to tell Gilbird you love him.”

“Now you’re jealous?”

“It’s not that. My staff thinks you’re gay.”

“What?! Well, what did you say?”

“I told them he’s a bird. Where are you now, anyway?”

“Someone will fetch me here.”

“In the sea?”

“Well, yeah. What’s wrong with that?”

His brother chuckled.

“Luddie? Answer your brother.”

“Goodluck swimming with the sharks.”

“Sharks? There are no sharks here.”

“No sharks eh? I guess you’re not going to need my help anymore.”

“Hey, I’m just kidding. What if there are really sharks here, huh?”

“I’ll have to hang up.”

“Wait! No!”

“My apologies, brother I have another business to attend to.”

“Don’t leave me hanging here—!”

The line went dead.

“WEST!”

**Author's Note:**

> MY FIRST FIC without lemon without too much drama without xreaders. HEHE Only action and humor aaaaand a bit of drama.
> 
> |You can also find me @Deviantart with the same username|


End file.
